The itch you just can't scratch
by idioticonion
Summary: Do we really believe that Lily went that long without a little somethin' somethin? Set between Aldrin Justice and Swarley. Part one is Lily's POV and part two is Barney's POV
1. Chapter 1

The Itch You Just Can't Scratch

"Hey…", a soft voice whispers in her ear, "that's a nice skirt. Can I talk you out of it?"

Lily swivels around on her stool and rolls her eyes with a grin. "Barney!" He's standing too close, right in her personal space, and he's tracing a finger down her spine before he realises who she is. It's too invasive, too tactile. It reminds of how long it's been since anyone's touched her like that. She supposes she should be dating by now but she doesn't want another man. She wants Marshall. And now here's Barney with his sleazy come-ons and his come-to-bed eyes and it both irritates and amuses her.

He beats his fist on the bar with a "Damn!" and mutters under his breath: "Busted again."

"Seriously? Does that line _ever_ work?"

He scowls, that adorable scowl - she'd put money on the fact that he practices that in the mirror - and cocks his head with a shrug. "Sure." He laughs. "For any single woman who's left alone at a bar this late in the evening, pretty much anything works…" He gives her a pointed look and she sighs.

"Let me buy you a drink," she suggests. She still feels a little guilty about the whole stealing-his-new-bed-linen incident. Although, boy, it's the best thing she's felt against her skin in months.

He sits down eagerly beside her and winces slightly.

"How's the hip?" She asks, raising an eyebrow. He's never going to live that cougar-thing down, possibly not for years. He growls at her and she gets a kick out of riling him.

"What, no witty come-back?" She asks and he opens his mouth but she quickly places a finger over his lips. Lily doesn't know if it's the three Cosmos she's had or the way her back still tingles where he touched her but suddenly the fact that she's touching him seems weird and inappropriate. She pulls back her hand, unable to mask the confusion she feels.

Like a wolf, he senses her weakness and reaches out, capturing her wrist in his hand. "Why Lily Aldrin… Would you look at you, showing such _friendly_ concern…" But his eyes say something different and his lips say something different as he runs his tongue over them and _god_, it's been _so long_.

She shakes herself. It's Barney.

But _look at him_!

She remembers what it felt to be held by him, to rest her cheek against his flesh and breathe in his scent, his male-ness, and flirting can't hurt, right?

But it's Barney. If they hooked up, theoretically, he wouldn't even say anything. It would be a one-night thing and they'd never talk about it again.

All this goes through her mind in the instant between him doing that tongue thing and her pulling back her hand. He keeps hold of it, his thumb lightly brushing over her wrist. It tingles. It makes her tingle all over. It makes her _throb_. Damn, he's good.

He's had plenty of practice, after all.

But he's _Barney!_

(He's not Marshall…)

Lily opens her mouth, making a decision. "You know…" She says, smiling, her other hand covering the back of his. "I think I might have left a couple of things at your place… Could I come round… sometime…?" She laughs. "If I didn't outstay my welcome?"

His eyes flash and he shows his teeth. _Wolf_, she thinks.

"There's still the twelve-hour visa…?"

The question hangs in the air between them.

*--*--*

He's rougher than Marshall. He _feels_ different to Marshall, in the most fundamental and exotic way. It's all about shape and muscle and size and… yeah… he _feeds_ off her mouth, his tongue battling hers and cajoling her and there's a frenzy about it.

They somehow make it from the couch to the bed and she's lost her skirt in one fluid motion. There's no endearing clumsiness like she's used to, not giggles, not sweetness, just _need_. She falls on to the bed on her stomach, breathless, and he flips her on to her back. The dim light casts a shadow all around him and he looks golden and demonic at the same time, like a fallen angel. There's no more humour in him, no smiles or smirks or grins. This is business to him and Lily can see he takes it very seriously by the expertise he shows in unbuttoning her blouse and cupping her breast and the way he _breathes_ on to her, warming her skin. Barney's mouth moves over her body, nibbling, leaving a hot, wet trail over her belly until his tongue extends, darting between her legs with no warning at all and he shocks her (Marshall never shocked her) and it's too sudden, too soon and it almost hurts.

Then he chuckles. She can feel a pulse, beating like a snare drum, her clit is swollen and raw and, yeah, it's _painful_ that he's pulled away. He's being evil; she knows that he's playing with her. She grabs his hair, short, blonde tufts twisting beneath her fingers and she snarls, pushing him down. He doesn't resist (of course) because that's just what he wanted - her desperation, her naked desire and he teases her, licking her gently, thrumming his tongue against her until she's writhing and moaning wordlessly and the world goes kind-of liquid.

After she comes, her jaw aches. She hadn't realised that she'd clenched her teeth. Oh sure, Marshall has made her come that hard (her heart breaks a little as she thinks this) and what if he never takes her back? Suddenly there are tears in her eyes and she wishes, wishes, wishes with all her heart that she could take back the last three months and be with him again.

Barney's hovering over her and frowns. There are no words. He knows what she's thinking - of course he does, he knows what this is between them, he knows what he's giving her - and he kisses the corner of her eye at the crease. She can smell herself on him and when he kisses her, softly, just the once, she can taste herself too.

He nuzzles her cheek, his nose brushing her jaw-line before he pulls back, slipping on a condom. He doesn't ask her permission, doesn't question her, and somehow Lily's grateful for his confidence. Because if he asked her if she was sure she wanted to do this, her brain and her heart would get in the way and, boy, right now she just wants to be fucked _really_ hard. She wants to feel something, anything, to relieve the desperation she's felt every single second since Marshall uttered the words "Lily, you were right…"

Lily feel's Barney's hands (his clever, conjurer's hands) grab her ass and pull her towards him. She squirms and he pins her down, his weight pressing her into the bedding as he enters her, all firm and smooth and… urgh!... her brain refuses to work from that moment on.

Everything's physical, immediate, pulsing, almost angry. She kind-of fights him, scowling a little, wanting him deeper, faster, harder and that's exactly what he gives her. And she enjoys it because he's _not_ Marshall and everything is wrong and different and terrible and beautiful and it's nothing but sex, sex, pleasure and mounting, devastating ecstasy.

When she comes, there's no emotional connection between them. She feels him hold back, skilfully (he's the master at this) and as the spasms wrack her body she wonders what he's waiting for. But when she turns to putty in the afterglow he begins again, thrusting so suddenly, so brutally, that her third orgasm surprises her as much as the look of child-like joy that she sees in him in the brief instant before her eyelids flutter closed.

She's also surprised that he holds her, for long minutes afterwards. And even after he's shifted over, even after she's heard the snap of the condom being removed, even after she hears the rush of water from the shower, Lily doesn't feel like moving.

She feels sated…. At peace.

She knows the bad feelings are out there, at the edges of her consciousness, but she doesn't care. For that one moment, she doesn't care.

And for that one, brief moment, she loves Barney for giving her that.

*--*--*

The next day, Lily feels a little fragile, a little brittle. She goes over to Robin's, to invite her over to the apartment. She invents some spurious reason (wine tasting/catch-the-rat party) so that she doesn't have to be alone. Robin and Ted tell her that Marshall's going on a date.

Her world shifts again and all thoughts of Barney are forgotten. The peace that she found the previous night is swept away in that one, cruel moment of realisation that Marshall might be with someone Marshall might have a future with someone else.

But weeks later, when she's lying in Marshall's arms, and months later, when she's finally stopped worrying that it's all going to fall apart again, Lily allows herself a secret smile that she got to experience sex outside of her and Marshall. Sex, not making love. She'd only ever made love with Marshall.

And when Barney marries her and Marshall a few months later, then love is the only thing that's important in the whole wide world.


	2. Saved

Brunette... eleven o'clock: Hot little body, row of vodka-cranberries lined up in front of her on the bar, air of quiet sadness… check, check and check.

Barney approaches her blind. There's enough scotch swilling around his system to make him a little careless. Besides, it's desperation hour and anything he says will make her laugh. In fact, the more lame the line, the more successful he's likely to be. He grins at Carl, giving him a wink and misses the frown the bartender throws him. Placing a hand on the small of her back he whispers in her ear "Hey… that's a nice skirt. Can I talk you out of it?"

She turns and, damn it! It's Lily. It's Lily and she's sitting there and it's desperation hour and she's radiating loneliness and need and availability. Someone's going to come and get her. Some bad man.

(He's a bad man, but it's _Lily_ and she's Marshall's, even if Marshall doesn't quite see it yet)

He tries to shrug it off. "Busted again!" He mutters, mock-grouchy.

"Seriously? Does that line _ever_ work?" She says. She looks eager - too eager. And she's just _so_ hot. And it's not like he isn't curious. But it's _Lily_…

Part of his brain changes gear from cool to smooth. He calls her out. "For any single woman who's left alone at a bar this late in the evening, pretty much anything works…"

"Let me buy you a drink," she suggests, and he gapes before he's had a chance to check himself. She's so, so vulnerable and she has no idea what kind of game she's playing. He sits down next to her, too quickly. He's still a bit stiff. He allows himself a wince. He knows how Lily likes to mother him and he's not above using that sort of inside info in situations like these.

(Situations like these? Is her really going to do this? But… better him that some other dude, right?)

"How's the hip?" She asks with that wicked smile. She's so hot, too hot. She's like a _ten_. There's no way he's going to let someone else grab her.

(He could take her home and talk her out of doing this…)

"What, no witty come-back?" She asks. _But what about Marshall?_ Barney thinks. He's almost there, almost at the edge. There will be a point when he can't pull back, when he'll be a steam train, rattling down that hill with no brakes and he can feel his ears popping right now. Her finger's on his lips and if he parts them he'd be able to draw it into his mouth and suck on it.

Something in his eyes scares her off a little because she tries to pull back but it's too late for that… far too late. He takes her wrist and holds it, fondles it, strokes it, knowing just where to touch so that she'll tingle where he wants her to. "Why Lily Aldrin… Would you look at you, showing such _friendly_ concern…" He says. He's doing this for Marshall. He can see her melt.

If not him, then some other dude will do this to her. Someone who doesn't care about her or Marshall.

And she's just so… so…

"I think I might have left a couple of things at your place… Could I come round… sometime…?" She laughs, sweetly. She's got a kind laugh. "If I didn't outstay my welcome?"

He has to make it plain. There can't be any confusion between them. She can't say later… "Oh, I didn't realise. I thought you were just being a friend…" He doesn't want her to hide behind excuses.

So she needs to get laid? He's surprised that she hasn't done this before. Perhaps she has, in San Francisco. But he thinks he'd be able to tell. He can smell it on her.

Desperation hour.

She's smiling and she's asking him a question with her eyes. He answers it.

"There's still the twelve-hour visa…?"

*--*--*

She's dirtier than he thought she'd be. Ten years with the same man and she's a kindergarten teacher and you'd think that under all that she'd be all about the missionary position and cuddling. But she's got her tongue down his throat before he can even loosen his tie and she wraps her legs around his waist, heels digging into his buttocks as they make out on his sofa. She's lean and has bumps in all the right places and what she's doing with her tongue gets him hard in a second.

He lifts her up, carrying her over to the bed and dumping her down on it. She lands clumsily, rolling over on to her belly and he flips her over - she weighs nothing at all - and straddles her. She's beautiful - hair like dark chocolate tumbling over her lightly-tanned skin. He misses the red hair - burning like fire and marking her out as special. But it's easier somehow, doing this with her looking so different.

Perhaps he knew, right back when he flew to San Francisco to rescue her, perhaps he knew even then that it would come to this: her in his bed, naked and wanting him.

She wants him. She's stunning. Her body is incredible. He buries himself in it, kissing her, tasting her. She tastes like strawberries and cream and brown sugar - like sunshine and freedom. He knows what she tastes like, of course, because he woke up with a mouth full of her once.

Perhaps he knew, back then, when he let her stay at his place and make-believe that she was his wife that it would come to this: her in his bed, writhing beneath him, spreading her legs and moaning his name.

He holds her hips in both hands, holds her still and he _decides_… He's going to show her. He's going to show her what he can do. If he can't give her Marshall, he can at least do his best for her.

He can do at least as much as he did for Professor Lewis. He can do _more_. It's _Lily_…

So he dives in, smashing through her defences because that's the only way to do it. He pressed hard with his tongue, stroking it over her swollen clit until she yelps in pain. Then he stops and lets the heat roll over her, lets her pull at him, push him back down and he takes it easy the second time, his fingers pressing into her while his tongue goes to work and she's slick, salty and sweet, delicious. He loves doing this. He loves making a woman his, sending her out of her silly little mind. Sometimes he likes to do this for hours, until she's sweat-drenched and exhausted.

But not with Lily. When he feels her shudder, her body contracting and then expanding, her breath going ragged, then slow, he moves up her body. She exhales shakily. She's crying.

It's not the first time he's seen a woman cry after she comes. It won't be the last.

Luckily, he knows what to do. He kisses her tears away, touches his lips briefly to hers, then he grabs a condom from the dresser. Tearing the wrapper with his teeth, he rolls it on, holding his erection briefly and looking down at her. She looks sad. She's at that deep, dark place where women sometimes go, where they never let him follow. But he knows how to bring them back.

So, now she's just a body, she's just a woman and he's just a man and they are no longer Lily and Barney but they are Adam and Eve and they're the first ones ever to do this, the first ones ever to discover that if _that bit_ goes _there_ then it makes good feelings inside. Very good feelings indeed.

He holds her again, cupping her buttocks as he thrusts into her, totally attuned to her, biting his lip to stop himself from feeling too much, too soon. He rocks her, moves her until she cries out and he concentrates hard, pushing deep inside her, there, there, she's moaning now…

He winces slightly… damn that hip… but it's good, it stops him getting carried away, allows him to focus on _her_…

He closes his eyes; it takes every single ounce of self control not to come when she does because she's soft and warm and so tight around him and she bucks her hips like a wild animal against him but he's _resolved_ that he's not going to let her off that easily.

So he lets her relax, just a little, just go limp and he waits for the smile to light up her face and in that instant he pushes back in, deep, hard and fast and wants to laugh at the shock on her face, the confusion. She doesn't think she likes it (they never do) but she quickly realises she does (they always do) and she's yelling at him to "fuck her hard" and he does, of course, because he's a gentleman at heart and a gentleman always obliges-

Fuck!

The world goes fuzzy and whites out and he chokes out her name as he ejaculates. It's not pretty or romantic or any of that crap but it feels fantastic and that's what he's all about.

It feels more than fantastic for her.

When he opens his eyes, she's got that look - the one he was aiming for. All that sadness, that desperation, that loss - it's all gone. It's all gone because _he_ took it away. And Barney knows how quickly it can come back so he holds her close until he's sure she's half-asleep before leaving her in bed because if he gets too comfortable he thinks he might fall in love with her a little bit.

Trouble is, Lily's always got him. She's always seen the glimpses of the secret self he struggles so hard to protect. As he steps under the shower he scowls.

Stupid post-coital emotions.

But hey, at least she won't go looking for a little sumthin' sumthin' for a few days. Perhaps it's enough time for them to get her and Marshall back together.

He closes his eyes and lets the hot water wash over him. He breathes in, deep, and he can still smell her, taste her…

Damn Marshall!

When he gets back into bed, she's fast asleep.


End file.
